


My Heart Still Beats (Stubborn Fucker)

by AngeNoir



Series: Write-Away Giveaway Fills on Tumblr [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Iron Man 3, Iron Man 3 Spoilers, M/M, References to Torture, references to unethical medical procedure, unethical medical procedure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony can feel like a new man as much as he wants, but the hole in his chest is heavy, and his heart aches and aches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart Still Beats (Stubborn Fucker)

**Author's Note:**

> As a celebration for reaching 100 followers on tumblr, I'm holding a giveaway [here](http://outercorner.tumblr.com/post/51036127748/write-away-giveaway-last-call-3-hours-left), and what I'm giving away is prompt fills for anyone who asks! I received this prompt from [irisaya](http://irisaya.tumblr.com):
> 
> _So I just saw your post about the potential medical implications of Tony removing the arc reactor. I've seen no one else address this yet (maybe party because I've been off tumblr etc. lately) and it was my first reaction. "But they'd have to do so much reconstruct to make up for the lack of support for his ribcage etc. not to mention all the other issues" So if you wouldn't mind, possibly something addressing that please? I'm partial to Steve/Tony but I'm quite free, pairing wise really._

“Stark.”

Tony flinched at the term – he hated being called by his last name – and turned around in surprise. “Oh Captain my Captain!” he called out, injecting levity into his voice. “Why are you here?”

“I thought you had rooms for the Avengers?” Rogers paused in the doorway, looking almost chastised at Tony’s question.

Tony waved a hand. “Of course I do, I told you I did, didn’t I? It’s just that no one seemed to take me seriously, all off on super-spy stuff that no one could tell me about, which I get it, I’m not SHIELD’s soldier, I’m not doing their dirty work, but you’d think they wouldn’t make Captain _America_ do their dirty work, either—”

“Stark, you’re babbling,” Rogers said, and his voice was softer. Tony thought that that kind of voice was patently unfair, because it sounded calm and caring when they had last parted as – not enemies, definitely approaching acquaintances, but not yet friends. Soft voice either meant that Rogers was bracing Tony for bad news or trying to calm Tony down and it wasn’t as if—

Okay, yeah, he had been babbling. Trying to deflect attention.

“I never babble,” he lied easily. “Everything I say has purpose and merit. Some people just refuse to acknowledge it.”

Almost involuntarily, the corners of Rogers’ mouth quirked up – briefly, but they did. Tony counted that as the equivalent of a smile and put a checkmark in his column. “Alright then,” Rogers conceded, taking half a step forward and then pausing. Tony wasn’t quite certain why Rogers seemed reluctant to enter the workshop, but he waved him forward anyway. Permission granted, Rogers moved forward and stopped, mouth gaping and eyes going panicked.

Tony whipped around, expecting to see something, some enemy, but there was nothing, of course there was nothing, JARVIS hadn’t warned him, they were on the ninety-first story, who could have gotten up here? Turning back around, Cap was suddenly _much_ closer and Tony forgot to breathe.

At least, until Rogers tore off his shirt, and Tony really _did_ stop breathing. This had been a recurring fantasy, yeah, but he had just broken up with Pepper only a couple weeks ago and this seemed mighty fast for good ol’ Cap –

Oh. Oh yeah.

“I had it removed, Cap,” Tony said, running fingers over his chest and trying not to wince. There hadn’t been much the doctors could do for the scar tissue. Well, there had been things to minimize it, and Stark had been vain but not that vain.

Rogers’ head jerked up, startled. “Removed?” he echoed in disbelief. “Stark, how is that possible – I’ve seen the file, that thing replaced most of your sternum—”

“Relax, Cap!” Tony patted Rogers’ upper arm, fake smile in place. “The support’s still there – flexible alloy that gives shape to my chest. Keeps my ribs from just floating in space, gives my upper body support. All that fun stuff. I just don’t need the electromagnet anymore. All the shrapnel is gone.”

“That’s…” Rogers trailed off, looking so distressed that it immediately put Tony on edge.

“What?” Tony snapped, demanded, and Rogers took a stumbling step back, surprised at the vehemence, maybe. “What is it? Shocking? Surprising? I need to get better, and I was using it as a crutch. There are surgeons out there with, like, 75% success rates on these kinds of things, and you know I got the best. Instead of having a hole, now it’s filled in. Done.”

“Wouldn’t the metal poison you?” Rogers couldn’t seem to stop pushing, which only made Tony’s anxiety ratchet up higher and higher. “Just – pure metal? Isn’t that a lot heavier than what was there before?”

“What does it matter?!” Tony snarled, turning his back and stalking over to one of the many workbenches in this workshop, trying to pretend he couldn’t see his hands trembling bad enough to make picking anything up a not-good idea. “I was dependent on it – too much. If someone removed it, if it broke – you saw, I nearly died because the power was out and the shrapnel started moving into tinier veins, cutting as they went. This is the better option!”

But it had brought up a whole slew of nightmares again – nightmares he had thought he’d grown out of, but apparently only pushed to the back of his mind. Nightmares of hands reaching into his chest to break off his sternum, pieces of his ribs, of a crude circle made from the bottom of a can shoved into his cavity and wires running down to a magnet, shoved deep into the muscles near his heart, the lungs pressed down and cut back and pinned closed to make room for the monstrosity sitting in his chest.

The bad thing about being smart and reading up on surgeries, the risk, and the steps was that it was now much, much easier to understand what had been done to him with little to no anesthesia in a dark cave that always smoldered at the back of his mind.

“Better option for who?” Rogers asked softly.

Tony gripped the edge of the table and tried to regulate his breathing. He’d been – okay, he really hadn’t been considering going to a therapist, but he’d talked about it seriously, understanding that there was a problem, and something was needed to regulate the attacks he had. He’d given up his suits for Pepper, but –

_“You said all suits, all of them would be gone!”_

_“Yeah, but Pepper, this one is remote control, I don’t even have to be in it, you know that, I can just control it remotely and still help out the Avengers—”_

_“You promised all the suits, Tony! You said this was over, that this would be over, and then I have to find out from Fury, of all people, that you cut SHIELD a deal on SI’s contracts? You said – you promised, Tony, you told me it was over—”_

_“They need me, Pepper!”_

_“And what about me, what I need?! I thought you weren’t a soldier, Tony!”_

– but he’d kept one. He’d kept the last, Mark 42, his baby and the compromise he could come up with for himself. Because he would still be Iron Man, even if he didn’t have the armor. He’d still help, even if he wasn’t physically throwing himself into harm’s way.

Pepper hadn’t agreed. Then again, Pepper was still overcoming her own trauma of being Killian’s objectified project, and Tony was in no way going to belittle that or trivialize that in any way. She had a right to be upset at his lack of follow-through.

She was smart to leave.

“For me,” Tony replied, and his voice was barely a croak, a weak claim to something he still wasn’t sure about. “It was for me.”

A warm hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, comforting and supportive and Tony fought not to lean back into the touch. “If you’re sure, then I’m glad, Tony,” Rogers said, voice a deep rumble, only Tony couldn’t very well think of Rogers – of Cap – as _Rogers_ if Steve was willing to use Tony’s first name. Common courtesy, after all.

“I can still help with the Avengers. I still _will_ help with the Avengers—”

“Tony, that – that was never a problem. Don’t worry about it,” Rogers – _Cap_ – interrupted, turning Tony around so that Tony had to tilt his head a little to meet that earnest gaze. “No, I just wanted – I wanted to say thank you. For – for everything you’ve done. And for inviting us to live here, and for helping the team, even remotely, and just for – for everything. Okay? That’s why I came.”

Tony thought back to the empty tower, Pepper gone for two weeks now, JARVIS the only other voice besides his own he’d heard for a long while, and swallows. “The invitation’s still open,” he said, voice rusty.

(The invitation had been the last straw, and Pepper had packed up her bags that morning and left.)

Cap – Steve – blushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping so. I brought – well. I brought my stuff.”

And though the surgery had left Tony with a huge weight – literally – sitting in his chest, making it that much harder to breathe and to move, though the surgery had minor complications that had ended up with tears in Tony’s lungs that were still on their way to healing, though his chest would never be perfectly smooth like Steve’s… for a blushing smile like that, to have a blushing smile like that near him, he could ignore it all and be happy.

“Your floor’s up three levels, c’mon, Cap, let’s get a move on,” he said, slipping into the easy familiarity of his charming mask, using it to keep himself from breaking down in Steve’s arms for having someone who understood and didn’t mind what the arc reactor had and had not stood for. Pathetically glad for the little human contact Steve afforded, he latched on to Cap’s sleeve the minute the elevator hit Steve’s floor and tugged him out of the elevator. “All elevators require DNA and retinal scans, so no one will be able to get this high without being on your approved list.”

Steve wasn’t paying close attention to him, instead walking into the open, airy space with something akin to wonderment on his face. “This – Tony, this is amazing,” he breathed, looking at the natural lighting that made the blank canvas glow in the back corner, the half-walled-off kitchenette area, the walled-off bedroom and bathroom area. “This is – this is just swell.” He turned to look Tony square in the eye, a big grin on his face, eyes alight with warmth. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony swallowed hard. “No problem, Cap. Glad to have helped.” He waved a negligent hand, pretended Steve’s excitement didn’t mean the world to him.

“Tony.”

Tony looked back up at Steve, to see he had come closer, a look of wistful longing on his face.

“You can call me Steve, you know?” Steve finally said, and the warmth in Steve’s face must be catching, because Tony felt something hot and precious unwind within his chest and curl up around his aching and still-tender rib cage.

“I know, Steve.”


End file.
